Corbeau
by Bleu Tsuki
Summary: The Gilded Cage is full of exquisite birds, Severus just never expected to run into such a pretty raven. Especially on the same day Harry Potter was declared dead. SNARRY. AU. Chan. WIP
1. Trouver- to find

(Warnings: mentions of non-con, slavery, and trafficking. Features slash, chan (14), and prostitution.)

**A/N- **

**Features just a dash of slash,**

**Only this and nothing more,**

**Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.**

* * *

**Corbeau**

"The search is over." Albus announced gravely, a profound sadness emanating from those four words.

"Oh, Albus!" Minerva cried, rushing forward to warp her arms around the headmaster.

"Is there really no hope, then?" Arthur perked up. "Is Harry Potter truly dead?" Molly was crying on his arm, feeling a heavy weight on her heart as if one of her own had died.

Albus shook his head sadly, "It appears so, my boy." Though even his _'my boy'_ sounded pitiful.

"I'm sorry Padfoot." Remus whispered to his lover, who was currently crying into his chest.

"Not your fault." Sirius mumbled. "Not your fault." Sirius looked horrible, despite being released from Azkaban one year ago when Pettigrew was found. Dark circles hung below his eyes and his hair was lanky, his curls tangling.

"I always knew those muggles were the worst sort." Minerva sniffled, "But I never thought...never! Lily's own sister!"

There was a collective sob from the group, and the whole Order was in various states of mourning.

"I'll tell Minister Fudge in the morning." Shacklebolt announced heavily. The Minister had been dreading this, wanting the Wizarding World to believe all was well, but even he had to admit his excuses of 'special training' and 'safe houses' were running thin and gray.

"I'll tell him myself." Albus said, "I just hoped it hadn't come to this. Oh, Harry...how could I have failed you?"

Severus Snape was asking the headmaster much the same in his own mind. How could it have all ended so terribly?

Severus was a stoic man; arms crossed in front of him and his face a carefully molded mask. But inside his thoughts were churning: How? Why? Where? No one would have guessed how he was breaking on the inside, him being James' enemy and all. But Harry represented the last vestige of Lily also, and he would be hard pressed to forget that.

_Damn you, Albus. You trusted them because they were family! You didn't stop to think they would do something like this, did you? You were just stuck in your lemon drop world where everything goes according to plan. Damn you, Albus. Damn you!_ His lips pressed into a thin line as he continued his mental libel.

Harry Potter had been reported missing three years ago, but had probably been removed from the Dursley's residence even earlier. Arabella Figg had first alerted them of the boy's absence from the gardens five years ago, and when it was chalked up to video games or reading, no alarm had been raised. That was, until Minerva had called out "Potter, Harry!" at the Welcoming Feast, only to be met with deafening silence.

"Probably wants to make a grand entrance." Severus had muttered to himself...but one month quickly changed that. Come three years, and he was convinced of the boy's ultimate demise. He felt sorry for him, for Harry, in an odd sort of way, since he certainly wasn't over what James Potter did to him. But...three years of frantically scouring the globe for the child managed to draw some sort of sympathy out. He even stopped thinking of the child as James' son, and now just Harry-Bloody-Missing-Potter. And now...three years later, they could finally rest.

Harry Potter was dead.

...

Harry Potter was sold, approximately nine years ago, to a man whose only name was Sir. Uncle Vernon had been in debt due to his latest gambling binges, and Harry proved to be a perfect source of income. He was sold, and Uncle Vernon was never heard of again.

Sir was a nice owner, always calm and caring, but he soon sold Harry to a woman known as Mistress Annalise, and Sir became only a specter to fill in his memories of _how_ he got there. If he thought about it, he would've identified that moment as when it started: the idea of humans as property. And Harry was alright with that. Or at least he understood it and didn't balk at it, because being owned wasn't particularly something a person would like. It took a while getting used to, Harry remembered. The kneeling, the humiliation...the submitting. But Harry was a fast learner, especially when food was used as ransom, and pain as motivation. He quickly got the hang of it.

Never look your betters in the eye. Never speak unless asked a direct question. Always obey your Master or Mistress. And no one can be trusted. These were the rules from which the foundation of servitude was built. Disobey, and life could get very unpleasant very fast. But this time period too had come and gone, lasting only a handful of years, before he was sold to another man. His name was Eben Irving. He owned a few of the more clandestine nightclubs in London's red light districts, one being the Gilded Cage, were Harry was currently working.

Upon buying the poor boy, Irving had ordered him to stand up straight, and while looking him straight in the eye, Eben told him that he was free. Free. Harry couldn't believe it, having been lied to all his life. He thought it was a test at first, and readily (or so it appeared) agreed to work in one of his clubs. Irving's face had lit up dramatically, before he started prepping the boy in the club do's and don'ts. Emerging from Mistress Annalise's, Harry was what some would brand as freshly Collared. He was trained. A nice level zero for whatever 'career' he might end up in. But Irving was genuinely a 'nice' guy, and when days turned into months, and months rolled into years, Harry felt as if he were safe for the very first time. He still remembered how terrified he had been when his Mistress had sold him to Irving. Panic attack was an understatement, but his features were honed perfectly like marble. Practice, after all, makes perfect.

...

"Your name's Harry, kid?" Irving asked, voice scruffy from the cigarette he was alternatively smoking and waving in the air.

"Yes, Master." His voice was so soft then. Little, like an abused kitten. Irving had given him a hard stare before telling him to just call him Irving, forget about the whole Master Mistress business until he was working.

"Damn, forgot! I've gotta crack that Collar Code!" Irving had groaned to himself, hand coming up to sift through his dark red hair. "Always a pest, those. The trainers think they're all saints or something, but trust me, kid, customers aren't into necrophilia. They want a responsive partner, even if they're into a submissive." He seemed lost in thought for a minute, and Harry had taken the opportunity to study his new owner. Eben Irving was slightly on the heavy side, a plaid cap covering short red hair, and a gray blazer covering a black sweater. (Harry hadn't let his eyes wander lower.) Necro-? Harry wanted to ask, but knew better than to open his mouth.

But Irving, seeming to expect as much was on the lookout for subtle disturbances, and encouraged Harry to speak at once.

"Sex with death, kid." Irving told him. "Anyway, whatever that bitch beat into ya, you can toss it. I got you for your looks, not your programming." Irving said, emphasizing it with a jab of his cigarette. He drew another draft before continuing, "At the club, you'll be needing a name- a stage name. I think I'll have ya at the Gilded Cage- tame enough for a beginner, but certainly brings in the aesthetes." He glanced demurely at Harry, whose large green eyes were following his movements warily:

If the man said he could toss the rules, then fine! He just wasn't going to be stupid by not checking first, or rather testing first by breaking the eye rule. When the man obviously noticed his staring, but chose to ignore it-or accept it-Harry visibly relaxed.

"Right, well I'm a rambler!" Irving chuckled. He glanced at Harry again, but this time he seemed to be searching for something. Harry didn't shift under his gaze though, for he was quite used to this with Mistress Annalise. He could've sworn Irving muttered "Damn Collar Code" again, before stating, "I think Corbeau will do nicely for you. At the Cage, we name our employees after birds, and Corbeau means raven in French, see?"

Harry nodded vigorously, liking his new name and what is stood for. Harry was usually followed by unpleasant happenings, but Corbeau? A new start, a hidden identity- it offered a sort of protection that appealed to Harry. Harry smile up at the man, eyes shining with 'gratitude.'

Or maybe mostly, he was also determined to please his new Master, er, owner, er, keeper?

He wasn't a little kid by any means, eager to jump hoops for praise, but he had a knack for surviving, and this meant agreeing as much as possible. Yet, he still couldn't help but genuinely wonder if Irving could provide some sort of support for him. Harry had never known support, not even when he scrunched up his face to remember his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and their son, Dudley. He barely remembered anything but the present anymore. It was how he survived. Learn the rules, learn them quickly, forget them, learn the rules... But even he, trained to be a submissive whore, was not without those humanizing feelings. _Could Irving be a friend? A father? A guide? _his immaturity wondered. He felt he was always on the lookout, subconsciously of course, for some parent figure, ever since his Uncle had told him of his parent's deaths. But he was older now, and knew that his weakness could only be used against him. He shoved it down, along with the fantasy of being rescued. Live in the present.

...

Harry smiled at his past thoughts and evaluations of his self-maturity. How odd it was that only three years ago his mind was so simplistic. Damn Collars, he swore inwardly, now understanding Irving's hate of them. He had been so young then-thinking of parents and love and urgh! Now he knew better- he could be independent. But it didn't do to dwell in the past, did it? Harry, or rather, Corbeau smiled as he leapt from his bar stool and onto the ground with feline grace. His raven black hair fell to his waist and his emerald green eyes stood out boldly from his pale face, lined with smudged kohl. He wore a tight black shirt, close-fitting leather pants, a pair of black leather boots, and a gold chain with a large raven medallion hanging at the end. No wonder Eben had taken him to the Cage first: People here really would pay anything to fuck a beautiful body.

Corbeau was shaken out of his reverie by a bright voice beside him.

"Corbeau!" Robin squealed, a short, sixteen-year-old girl with a lavender mini-skirt and white laced bodice.

"Good evening, Robin." Corbeau bowed playfully, a smile tugging at his lips. It was barely nine thirty, and they had a least an hour before the club became remotely packed. "You look delightful." Corbeau added, eyeing her teasingly.

"Oh, you devil!" Robin grinned, knowing he used these phrases on the customers here.

Corbeau gave a mock gasp, "You do hurt me, Robin!"

Years of being under training left Corbeau on the quieter side, but how loud he said something didn't matter as much as what was being said. Besides, it only took a whisper in the ear for the 'best' words to be heard. However, his years of freedom at the club gave back what confidence Corbeau had lost, and being around the bubbly and loud Robin certainly helped matters too.

"Do you want me to lick the wound?" Robin crooned, still playing the game.

"Only if I can return the favor." Corbeau purred, fluttering his eyelashes in a decidedly dramatic manner. Finally, Robin couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing, just as Swan came over to assess the situation.

"Is everything alright here?" she asked, arms folded over her chest as literally white hair flowed down to her waist.

"Corbeau was just trying to smooth talk me!" Robin giggled.

"I would never!" Corbeau grinned, leaving Swan to roll her eyes.

"Whatever, just save some words for the real deal, 'kay?"

Corbeau nodded as the girl stalked off, before heading for the Playroom, and sitting down on one of the black leather couches. He wondered absently if tonight would be interesting at all.

It was July 31st.

...

After apparating to his flat in muggle London, Severus Snape sat in thought for quite some time, just contemplating the whole Harry Potter situation. Where could the boy have gone? Was he captured? Was he even alive? They had questioned Vernon Dursley and his family, yet, no one could say much else except that he was last seen leaving with a man called Sir. Honestly! Sir? Dunderheads, the lot of them. He couldn't believe they would just leave the boy with a complete stranger! But then, there always was a niggling feeling that something else was at play.

Albus had shooed the thought, always wanting to believe the best in people, but the rest of the Order knew better. Harry Potter had been trafficked. The savior of the Wizarding World had been sold by his own family. Perhaps he was dead. Perhaps death was his salvation.

Severus groaned, his head pounding from all of this foreign concern and myriad possibilities! He looked at clock. The Order meeting had ended near seven. It was now a quarter to eleven.

Should he? Well, what the hell, he had been searching nonstop, to no avail (let that be noted,) and deserved a treat of sorts. Incessant searching left little room to go dallying in his limited free time, so he intended to enjoy it when it came. Changing quickly into a pair of black pants, and tight black shirt, Severus apparated to an alley near the Gilded Cage, and continued briskly on his journey from there.

...

"He's a merciless flirt, isn't he?" Swan remarked to Eben. "And to think, he was a Collared boy!"

Eben nodded, a smile forming on his face as he watched Corbeau chatting leisurely with a group of ten or so men and women.

"So how old are you really, Corbeau?" a woman in a bright fuchsia dress asked.

"How old do I look?" Corbeau returned, fluttering his lashes.

"Old enough." another laughed, and the circle erupted in quiet chuckles.

It was near eleven o'clock now, and the club was becoming crowded. People closest to Corbeau's group turned to see what was going on and were delighted to be met with such an exquisite bird. There were only around twenty or so employees, but Corbeau was by far the newest and youngest. Yet, no one could actually say how old he was.

He was peculiar to look at, too perfect almost, with silky black hair, and alabaster skin with pale rosy lips and flashing emerald eyes. No one could seem to get enough of him, but no matter how much they looked, they couldn't have identified one thing that was too supernatural. It all seemed too...natural.

The group's chuckles faded off as a tall figure loomed over them.

"Irving?" Corbeau asked at his sudden appearance. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering if I could borrow Corbeau for a little bit." Irving smiled charmingly at them all.

"Good bye, little raven!"

"Bye Corbeau!" they called after him, drunk as they were.

"What is it?" Corbeau asked as Irving dragged him along by a rather firm grip on his arm. "Is something the matter?"

"No, of course not, Corbeau." Irving remarked, suddenly loosening his grip. "I'm sorry, did I scare you?"

"I- a bit." he admitted.

"No worries, Corey. I've just got a rather impatient man on my hands is all."

"Is that right?" Corbeau asked. "What? Is his usual not in today? I swore we had full attendance."

"No, he's just in a rush." Irving chuckled, "Big greasy bat, really. I've known him for a while but haven't seen him around lately. Come to think of it, you wouldn't even know him."

"Oh." Corbeau said, as they arrived outside of one of the private rooms. Things weren't adding up: Why the rush? Was he rich? Irving seemed to know what Corbeau was thinking for he nodded. "Yeah, don't know where he gets it all from. But, well, try your best, Corbeau!"

And with that, he gestured the young man inside.

...

Contrary to Irving's earlier statements of being in a hurry, Severus actually enjoyed to go slow. Just, he had this thing called magic, which would cause an illusion of time going by, when little to none actually did. Ingenious really, but if Irving insisted he was in a rush, who was he to discourage fast service?

Currently, Severus was seated on a leather armchair, opposite a rather large white bed. The room was minimally furnished with gray walls and a wooden floor. He was told they had a new bird in for him tonight. A lovely little treat from the animal fair a few years back. Being wholly occupied in the search for Harry Potter before now, he had yet to meet this new pet.

The door opened to let in a young male, long black hair falling to his waist.

"Ah, a raven." Severus murmured, catching sight of the medallion. Irving gave the raven an encouraging smile, though he couldn't see it, facing the other way and all, before shutting the door behind him. Irving never did that with the others...a personal apprentice, perhaps?

"Corbeau, actually." Corbeau smirked, his eyes remaining downcast even as he gracefully strode to his client. It was an unusual combination: submissive features with a prowling aura.

"I see." Severus said, obsidian eyes roving over the young man's frame. Corbeau didn't mind, he let the man look to his heart's content, but was decidedly confused: wasn't this man in a hurry? He sent out his senses, at least, it felt like he was sending something out, and was wholly surprised when he was met with a whole room full of golden electricity, for lack of a better term. He had sensed this light before, but only very little of it that Corbeau wondered if it was there at all. But now, it was undeniable. The room was brimming with energy, all seeming to emanate from the man in front of him. He hadn't had a chance to look up yet, but he was sure the man would be handsome. How? He wasn't sure...but the light felt very comforting and...dominating in an odd way_. Safety_.

"What can I do for you, Master?" Corbeau asked, tacking on the title for good measure. He almost thought he saw the man choke, though he couldn't have really seen, still looking at the floor.

"Please, call me Severus, Corbeau. We are equals here, are we not?" That was the longest sentence the man had uttered, and Corbeau could appreciate the low silky tones in which he said his name- both of their names. "Could you look at me?"

Corbeau raised his head, and though he had never seen this man before in his life, he felt he knew what he looked like already. That happened sometimes, weird premonitions...he hadn't told anyone about them, of course, but this man. He nearly called it fate.

Severus blinked twice in quick succession. His obsidian eyes met emerald green, and his breath caught in his throat. The green-eyed man blinked back at him, before kneeling down and deciding to just get started with it. He began to unbutton Severus' pants with his teeth. Severus couldn't believe it. Those eyes! But then a quick glance at his forehead desecrated his suspicions. No scar. Perfectly clear, alabaster skin.

"Something wrong, Severus?"

"No." Severus said, "Nothing's wrong." But he seemed to be reassuring himself as well. Corbeau shrugged and pulled Severus' pants down to his ankles before opening his mouth and taking Severus' length inside him. He was careful not to use his teeth, as Mistress had always used her teeth and it caused too much pain to outweigh the pleasure- though, he remembered, Harry's pleasure wasn't first on her agenda. Either way, he focused on using his tongue, swirling around the head and licking up and down the shaft, even daring to dip inside once or twice. Above, Severus was groaning. His eyes shut as he gave in to his senses. He had worked too long and hard, he gave himself up completely.

"Corbeau!" Severus moaned, reaching down to fist his hair. Corbeau was pleased to note that he hadn't been slammed up against his groin, as often happened. He felt his like for the man deepen as he continued to lap at the flesh like an ice cream. Then hollowing his mouth to suck, and move up and down, feeling his cock hit the back of his throat over and over.

Severus tried to ignore those green eyes that were playing havoc with his morals, as he came long and hard down the boy's throat, but as soon as he opened his eyes, there he was. Looking like all the world, an angel, but for the cum sticking to his lips. He must have swallowed the rest, Severus realized with a start.

"Beautiful," Severus murmured, pleased in a carnal sort of way that his cheeks were red and lips were puffy. Without thinking, he brought the boy's head up to force his lips upon his own, and even more surprisingly, the boy hadn't even stifled a gasp- like he had wished for it all along.

Their lips met, Corbeau's soft and pliant, every bit the opposite of Severus' cold, demanding lips, which parted to nibble on the raven's bottom lip. Corbeau moaned into his mouth, returning the kiss with vigor, and eagerly opened his mouth wider to let Severus' tongue do as it wished. They hadn't even noticed when they were standing.

"Severusss." Corbeau moaned as Severus thrust his pelvis into his, grating their hips together. Snape's tongue was invading, demanding, questioning, wanting to know Corbeau inside and out like a possessive lover. His hand came to snake around his waist, fisting the boy's ass while his other tangled itself in the raven's hair.

Corbeau wasn't to be outdone, however, and his hands crept beneath his shirt to stroke pleasantly toned sides and a lean stomach. This wasn't admittedly what Corbeau had expected, but he was happy to have discovered it. He barely even noticed the shimmering lights dancing around them, until his eyes snapped open as they both needed to breathe.

Severus was again startled at the utter greenness of his irises, but found that he like them- separating them from Lily's by repeating "this is Corbeau" over and over. He had become somewhat of an expert of separating people over the last three years, having successfully chopped James and Harry apart. They stood panting, clutching each other's sides in a tight hug...

"That was brilliant." Corbeau managed to get out, brushing some hair from his visage.

"Indeed." Severus concurred, going to rest on the bed. He patted the space beside him before Corbeau came too. He could still sense the lights, but they were dimming.

He gave a yawn, and Severus reciprocated with a puzzled look on his face. The time illusion wasn't working. Was there magical interference, but, there couldn't be! It was only Corbeau in the room...

"Severus?"

And that was when Severus Snape's world fell off its axis.

There was a scar on Corbeau's forehead.

A lightning bolt scar.

He had just been sucked off by Harry Potter. He had just found Harry Potter. Harry Potter was alive.

"Severus?"

"H-har-ry..." Severus said, mouth hardly moving. As for the rest of him, he might as well have been stone.

Corbeau froze. Harry. Wasn't that his name? A long time ago? Harry?

"How d-do you know me?" Corbeau asked shakily. His voice had changed, his appearance too. But it seemed he hadn't even noticed. It must have been similar to accidental magic, surviving magic that didn't get tracked by the Ministry. He must not have known...

"Your...scar." Severus swallowed, his libido instantly sobering.

"Scar?" Though his hand flew up to touch it. "You can see it?"

"Oh, Harry. Harry, Harry."

Severus was in shock. He crumbled onto the bed, mouth agape. Harry was freaking out.

"I almost raped Harry Potter!" Severus ground out, horrified. Harry's eyes widened- rape? Why would it have been rape? Not sure what else to do, but certain that it always worked, Harry reached up to kiss him on the lips. A chaste kiss- before smiling lightly.

"Yes, I think that was my name before I was... taken."

Severus nearly shuddered.

"You don't know who you are, do you?" Severus sighed. Just great! Harry Potter was supposed to be dead! He wasn't supposed to be here. HE wasn't supposed to meet him- Severus! And certainly not here, at the Gilded Cage! Severus took a deep breath. He needed to be in control.

Glancing at the boy again, he was startled to find actual concern on his features. Why would the boy care for him? Why? He hadn't the slightest clue.

"What do you know?" Corbeau asked, slouching on the bed beside him. And that was when he began. He talked through the Destruction of the Dark Lord, the attempt on Harry's life, the death of his parents, the fact he was wizard, that Severus worked at a school and was to be his Professor... Harry seemed to be taking the news rather well, all factors considering. But it could just have been the total shock of it all. Come morning and Severus was positive he wouldn't be so damn calm.

"Harry?" He asked when he was done. "Corbeau? Harry?"

"Yeah, either. I don't know." Harry choked out. "I don't know." Who was he really?

* * *

**A/N- PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. Rencontrer- to encounter

**A/N- I've decided to continue this, even though I have no idea where I've running.**

**General Warnings: Very AU, mentions of prostitution, non-con, slash, trafficking, chan.**

* * *

**Corbeau**

**Chapter 2: Rencontrer- to encounter**

Severus continued to stare at the young man with a knife twisting through his heart. Harry held the hilt. All analogous of course, because Harry, or rather Corbeau, simply gazed up him as if he had not just attempted to rape him.

"This cannot be happening!" Severus moaned, and tried to slide away from the raven on the bed.

Said raven gave him a slightly hurt look before clasping his hands in front of him. No one wanted him. He would just have to accept it. He was probably cursed anyway seeing as his destiny was interwoven with a madman's. At least Voldemort is dead, Corbeau thought, but he gave me this scar and now Severus doesn't like me. With a sigh, Corbeau made to stand. There was just too much to think about- especially the bit where his parents had not died in a car crash and the fact that there were others with his ability that had searched for him. But right now, Severus' rejection was pressing to the forefront of his mind.

"Thank you for telling me, Severus." Corbeau said tonelessly. "Sorry for all the trouble."

His life had been flipped and spun thrice over, but he was still Corbeau. It didn't change the fact that he was a whore. It didn't change anything at all. He slipped off the bed with a sigh, truly startled when a hand shot out and grasped his arm, succeeding in tugging the boy back onto the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Severus asked sharply as Corbeau blinked at the ceiling in confusion.

"Out- my shift-"

But Snape was shaking his head.

"Did nothing I say get through to you?"

"I don't-"

"You can't possibly believe you'll be able to maintain this sort of profession once word gets out."

"Then don't tell them." Corbeau whispered, placing his hand over Severus'. Snape snatched his away as if burned and looked down so that his black hair hid his face.

"Impossible." Snape hissed. "Whether I inform them of your...lifestyle or not, this cannot continue. I won't allow it. No, we're going straight to Dumbledore."

"To Dumbledore?" Corbeau asked disbelievingly. "He's the one who all but sentenced me to this life!"

No way was he going to that fool! "Besides, you'd have to tell him how you found me and I'm not in the habit of lying!"

"Really?" Snape drawled. "And how old do your clients think you are?"

Corbeau flushed and Severus lifted his head to stare at him in triumph.

"Come, we're leaving."

Severus gracefully stood up and stared appraisingly at Corbeau who did the same. He had half a mind to hold out his hand to one so young, but knew that the sparks it sent to Severus' groin wouldn't be worth it.

Corbeau was angry and excited all at once. Perhaps Severus did care about him. Perhaps his life would amount to something. But he was also very mad. What right did the headmaster have to see Harry Potter? What right did anyone have to uproot him from his life?

Not that he liked this life very much, but he still would have liked to have been given a choice.

"Fine, Severus. But you have to promise me something." Snape raised an eyebrow. What could the boy possibly ask that Severus could give? But the young bird was plowing forward, emerald eyes shut over his fear. "Don't let me be sold ever again."

...

His heart stopped.

What was there for Severus to say? He nodded curtly and let his hand fall of its own accord. He questioned momentarily if bringing the boy to Dumbledore was the best thing, but he wasn't in any position to hide the Boy-Who-Lived from the Wizarding world, nor was he confident in his abilities to help the boy.

Corbeau stared at Severus' hands, at his long slender fingers for the longest time before reaching out and lacing their fingers together. His were cold and smooth, like cut marble and Corbeau couldn't help feeling that his hand fit perfectly. Why was this man any different from the others? Why trust this man to lead him safely on?

He couldn't explain it. Just as he couldn't explain how a supposed celebrity got trafficked into the Gilded Cage.

Severus stiffened at his touch but otherwise made no show of motion.

"How will we get there?" Corbeau asked curiously. The trust in his voice was evident and it made Severus cringe. There was no need to trust the man who had almost raped him.

"We will apparate to the edges of the castle. From there, we will walk."

"Why can't we appa- appear right inside?" Corbeau asked.

"The school has anti-apparation wards." Severus explained patiently, though the knowledge that this boy knew absolutely nothing twisted his gut just a little bit more. "Now hold onto me tightly. I don't intend to have to go searching all over for you again."

Corbeau smiled slightly and tightened his grip. His insides were writhing in anticipation, but his heart was fluttering. He barely heard the man murmur down from three, barely had time to process more than was absolutely necessary, and just like that- They were gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

...

Dumbledore stroked his beard, long since white, before shoving his tin tray of lemon drops away from him. He was sick of their taste, sick of their sweetness and tangy flavor...Artificial. That's what it was. The taste was artificial.

He sighed and looked at Fawkes who was preening her feathers with a scrupulous air, and trilled when she noticed his stare. The day had been long too. After Fudge, Skeeter, and a bunch of international reporters, Dumbledore was finally able to rest- a symbol of putting the Boy-Who-Lived to rest. Clearly he was not coming...clearly they had all failed him, and clearly he was dead.

"Oh, what have I done?" Albus groaned, taking off his half-moon spectacles and placing them on his desk. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, almost missing the little light emitted from one of his silver instruments that alerted of someone passing through the wards. Instantly the spectacles were back on his crooked nose, and his back straightened in preparation for another barrage of mourning parents or interviewers.

When no such house-elf came to inform him of Mr. or Mrs. Such and Such from a Such and Such magazine, he touched another one of his little whirring instruments with his wand, and muttered a spell that would display the main entrance. Mrs. Norris was gnawing on a mouse in the corner, and it was only after a minute that two figures stepped through. To say that Albus was surprised was an understatement. His eyes nearly popped out of his old head, and Fawkes clean burst into flame!

Severus Snape, or so it appeared, for Albus couldn't stop blinking away the image of Severus dressed in tight black muggle clothes, was accompanied, or so it appeared, by a young man. And it was this young man whom the headmaster stared at, unable to identify...the last time Severus had a date!

The two swept out of the scene, the young man's long black hair flowing handsomely behind him, Snape's face not as harsh.

...

The two tumbled near the gates, only because Corbeau panicked and fell, taking Severus down with him.

"Ooof!" Severus groaned, landing on all fours and feeling as if the world was spinning. He blinked and realized with horror that Corbeau's slim body was trapped beneath him.

"So you do want me after all." Corbeau teased, wriggling his hips against Severus'.

Severus blushed furiously, leaping off the ground and brushing off his muggle clothes.

"I certainly did not plan for that to happen. As I recall, it was your clumsiness that made us fall in the first place."

"Hey! You said to hold on!" Corbeau pouted. "Well..." He laughed a bit before glancing up, and up further, to the entire façade of the castle. His eyes bugged out and his jaw went slack. "Wow...is that really where you work?"

He had never seen such a magnificent building in his life. Why, the doors were nearly three times his height, with towers that seemed to reach the sky.

Severus nodded, "In the dungeons."

"Oh." Corbeau glanced at him wryly before determining that the dungeons suited him perfectly.

"Shall we?" Corbeau wondered, not too keen on meeting Dumbledore himself.

"Unless you would rather stare at this door—"

Corbeau shrugged, "Sometimes it's not a matter of preference but of necessity."

Snape shuddered and opened the door. "Of course, then follow me. I'm sure there's nothing to be scared of...for you at least."

He could only imagine the things that Dumbledore would say: _Oh, Severus! I trusted you!_ Or perhaps: _How could you? Hiding him all this time?_ When he really thought about it, they were all the same response really. And he dreaded hearing any one of them.

They stepped into the castle, where Mrs. Norris was happily and loudly nibbling on some quarry.

"Damn feline." Snape muttered, leading the way to the headmaster's office.

"That's why you like birds, don't you?" Corbeau purred, trying to keep up. "Or, at least I thought you did." he pouted, letting his fingers ghost over Snape's hand. Severus shivered and inwardly shouted curses to Merlin.

"You could very well be my student." Snape bit out, unwilling to let his libido sway his logic.

"But I'm not." Corbeau whispered liltingly. "And besides, school's not in session."

"Clearly." Snape snorted. "You think I'd let them see you lusting after their feared Potions Professor?"

"I forgot, you have a reputation to uphold..._Professor_" Corbeau taunted, but faltered after realizing they were facing a gargoyle and had been for the past minute or so. Severus raised an amused eyebrow.

"Indeed. Though, I'd suggest you keep your opinions to yourself." Snape said tonelessly. "This is Dumbledore after all."

"Password?" the statue asked grumpily.

"Cherry Cordials." Severus snarled, feeling increasingly foolish.

It slid aside, revealing a great rising staircase that had Corbeau gaping in awe.

"Indeed." Snape repeated, and lead the way up the stairs.

Corbeau nodded and started up after him, trying his best not to get too distracting by the tantalizing ass in his face. He imagined what could have been, a night of bliss for both of them, and compared it to the nerve-wracking reality of the present. Severus knocked three times, paused, and knocked again. From within the room, there was a great shuffling of papers before a voice, a tired defeated voice, called for them to enter.

...

"Oh, Severus, my boy! I had wondered if you were going to be alright last night. Clearly there was no cause to worry. What's your name, young m—oh."

Snape had the twisted desire to laugh in amusement but this was twisted up with his desire to cry and hide. What he did was terrible, and what was worse, he had absolutely no regrets.

The young man in question stepped a bit closer to Severus, unsure of how to handle this weary old man. Sure, this wizard had let his life play out as it had...but it was hard to hate him now, seeing him clearly as an ancient human who made mistakes.

"Corbeau." he said boldly, chin jutting up in challenge.

If Albus was startled before, he was falling out of his chair now.

"C-corbeau?" he murmured, swallowing uneasily. "Corbeau, Severus, please, come have a seat."

The raven looked up to Severus for support, who simply went to take his customary seat in front of the headmaster.

"Tea? Biscuits?" Dumbledore queried as the house-elves 'popped' the food onto the desk.

"Tea."

"And for you, my boy?" Albus asked.

"I'm not your boy." Corbeau growled.

"I insist you have something to distract you." Severus said lightly.

"Tea then."

Albus looked between them. "Very well."

There were a few moments of awkward silence in which each sipped his tea, before the headmaster fixed Severus with a very icy stare.

"How?"

"I had—I had run into Corbeau by chance." Severus started stiffly, "on a...separate errand."

"And how have you come to meet Severus?" Albus asked Corbeau, eyes a bit warmer.

"You don't trust him?" Corbeau wondered innocently.

"Oh, it's not a matter of trust as it is precaution." Albus replied.

"A lesson you learned from me, I take it." Corbeau said lowly. "Look, if Severus said we met by chance then we did. It's not as if we had planned a rendezvous!"

Albus' eyes snapped to Snape's. "Did you?"

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Severus moaned. "No, we simply happened to meet tonight."

"You know I can tell when you're lying."

"Then why beat around the bush?"

"Because I want to hear it from you."

Corbeau bit his lip and looked from Severus to Dumbledore. There was history here, he could feel it, but what did that mean for him? To him?

Severus remained silent. "I don't suppose you'll sink as low to use my own Veritaserum against me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." Albus sighed and rubbed tiredly at his temples. "Well just a few more orders of business to get to, then. Have you indulged in sexual intercourse with each other?"

Severus drew his wand faster than Corbeau could blink an eye. "I believe that is between me and Corbeau."

"No." Corbeau answered lazily.

"Good!"

Severus deflated and sat back down, torn between annoyance and relief. He didn't want to be charged with more than was absolutely necessary, but he also didn't think it was any of Albus' business whether Corbeau, at the very least, slept with anyone.

"Anything else, Albus?" Severus hissed.

"Ah, just a simple matter of C-corbeau attending Hogwarts in a week."

"You mean—I get to attend? Here?" Corbeau asked, excited in spite of himself.

"Did you not listen to anything I told you, Corbeau?" Severus rolled his eyes.

"Well I was a little preoccupied if you know what I—er." Corbeau flushed as he realized that the headmaster was still in the room. If he was to attend then that would mean semi-regular contact with this man. It was best not to tarnish the record too early on. Ha, as if there was a chance.

"Why of course you get to attend here!" Dumbledore cried, seeming to have reached his emotional limit. "Your name has been in the books ever since you were born!"

"But Albus, the sorting!" Severus protested. "I don't think a whole spectacle is really necessary."

"Hmm, well then, we'll just have to sort now, won't we?" Albus asked happily.

Corbeau, who was up till this point very confused, looked at Severus as if he had lost his mind. Sorting? What sorting? In the jumble of his life history, perhaps he had not paid attention to this aspect of his then hypothetical future. Well it was very real now, and Corbeau was equally as confused.

"Sorting?" Corbeau asked.

"There are four Houses at Hogwarts that students are sorted into. Slytherin, known for their cunning; Hufflepuff, known for their loyalty; Ravenclaw, known for their knowledge; and Gryffindor (Snape attempted to refrain from sneering) where the brave and foolish find their home."

"Wherever you end up is fine." Albus chimed in, now suddenly over by the shelves where he was summoning down the hat.

"But you're head of Slytherin, aren't you?" Corbeau asked.

Severus nodded. "But they are all good." he added reluctantly, gaining a nod of approval from the headmaster. "Don't worry. The hat will tell you where you need to be."

Albus arrived with the Sorting hat, an old black rag that Corbeau found particularly amusing as it looked like something Robin would wear for Halloween.

"Just wear it?" Corbeau asked, even as he dropped it over his head. He just managed to glimpse Albus and Severus share a look before the fabric cut them from sight.

Corbeau had never been overly fond of the dark. The dark was when he was shut up in his cupboard, or made to sleep in a foreign bed. In all honesty, the dark hid him as well as everything else, and it was this everything else that made Corbeau uneasy.

"Oh, is it September 1st already?" the hat enquired tiredly, seeming to come out of a very deep sleep. "No? Alright then, who do we have here?"

"Corbeau...you might know me as—"

"Harry Potter!" the hat shouted, "If anyone should be confused about the date it should be you. You're three years late! Well, I'm not one to hold a grudge, not that I can hold anything..."

"You can speak." Corbeau said in awe. "How? Are all clothes this way or were you enchanted?"

"I was once the hat of the great Godric Gryffindor." the hat said proudly.

"Severus doesn't like that house very much."

"I hope for your sake that you don't take everything a single person says for granted."

"How else am I supposed to learn?"

"With your head, I hope! What a waste of a brilliant mind if you cannot think for yourself. I think Merlin said that at one point..."

"I don't want to be used or manipulated anymore." Corbeau stated confidently, "The more I know, the less uncertainty they can manipulate."

"And who is this 'they'? Do not fear the unknown, Corbeau. Dumbledore is not the enemy unless he reveals himself to be. Fear those that have already asserted their intention to harm you."

"Like Voldemort?" Corbeau asked dubiously. "I suppose if I really am to take your advice, then I'll take what you have to say in stride."

"That's all we can do." the hat said approvingly, "Try our best despite our flaws...you belong in RAVENCLAW!"

* * *

**A/N- Haha! Did you see that one coming? To those of you following RoE, here's a secret: I will not be going over Book 4. The good news is that this story will be including the Tri-wizard tournament! **

**Also, please review! I've written this chapter twice because I wanted to give Corbeau his own persona, apart from Hasan...it's still difficult not to write long paragraphs of paranoia, but really, Corbeau's emotions are overflowing while Hasan's are more or less nonexistent. **

**Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW!**

**(As was pointed out to me, Fawkes is a male! But since I'm lazy and the whole fic is topsy turvey on the gender roles anyway, let's squint and pretend he is a she! Thank you!)**


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